


Five Times Percy Said I Love You Too

by intelcore



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: 2015 was such a weird time. I was like ten and insane enough to write this, EDIT 2020: repost with accurate date cause apparently that’s an ao3 feature!, F/M, and to see if I’ve improved since fifth grade., just on here for archiving purposes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:15:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intelcore/pseuds/intelcore
Summary: And the once he said "I love you."Or in which, Percy and Annabeth are absolutely, irrevocably in love—and know that—yet feel the need to state it every five minutes.
Relationships: Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Five Times Percy Said I Love You Too

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 2020: reposting my middle school fan fiction on to ao3 is insane behaviour i should not be engaging in, but im here anyway. for archiving purposes. you can skip over, this includes fifth grade me’s attempts at writing PJO fic and uh, it’s more than half a decade old. and written by a ten/eleven year old. and you can make that out!

**1**

The first time was when they were fourteen, a beautiful green shroud burning between them; scars, deaths and strands of grey hair marking victory.

After a night filled with dancing and—after a ridiculously long time— _normalcy_.

Luke has fallen off a cliff, they've saved Artemis, a 2000 year old Huntress has dispersed into a splash of diamonds across the sky, a sister has died, they've found out that the Lord of the Underworld does have living children.

Yet none of that really matters because she's alive, her grey eyes boring holes into the marshmallows they're roasting, as if they need more fire. Her blonde hair has been tied up in a braid, swinging as she turns her stick, head bent down.

They've changed, a fact Percy can't ignore, though he desperately wants to. It's a beacon of what's coming, though he'd really rather live in blissful oblivion.

"Your s'more is on fire."

Her amused, slightly lilting voice cuts through the onslaught of thoughts, as sharp as an arrow blessed by Apollo himself. He looks up, even though he's aware that the topic of conversation is the now charred stick lying on the ground in his hurry to put out the flame.

She shakes her head a little exasperatedly, a small smile lighting up her face. She mutters something that sounds like _Seaweed Brain._

"Oh." He says. "My bad. Pass a marshmallow, Annabeth."

"You forgot the magic word," she sing-songs, waving her marshmallow-on-the-stick at him.

He acts like he's going to snatch it from her. He relishes the sound of laughter she emits, for the first time that night though the cheerful façade may mislead anyone who doesn't know her well.

He does.

"Okay, _fine_." She relents at last, when he pulls the puppy dog face on her, something his mother says works quite well. She hands him a white marshmallow. He accepts it, his nervous system dancing the Congo line, his heart racing, his stomach doing flip-flops.

He suddenly isn't hungry anymore.

She's looking at him expectedly, so he wolfs down the marshmallow. He's aware of most of the other campers trudging back to their respective cabins, of Lee Fletcher stop instructing the assortment of Apollo campers and other cabin members gathered to sing at the campfire.

"It’s been a long day. We should go to bed," Annabeth says, as she rises from her spot on the ground. "Goodnight."

Percy jumps to his feet, and tries to convince himself that the next words that tumble out of his mouth are because of the influence of Sally Jackson and not of his own accord. "Let me walk you to your cabin."

Annabeth looks surprised and mildly impressed. "Oh. Oh, okay."

They make their way to Cabin Six in silence, the squeaking of their shoes the only source of sound.

"Thanks." She says as they reach her cabin. She grins at him. "Who would've thought _you_ would be such a gentleman."

"I don't know whether to feel insulted or complimented."

He is gifted a two note melody in the form of Annabeth's laugh. She gives his hand a little squeeze. "Anyway, bye. Thanks. Goodnight." She leans in and whispers in his ear, the soft tendrils of sleep dragging her deeper into their embrace. "I love you."

And like that she is gone, disappearing into the Athena Cabin, leaving Percy grateful for the cold, dark night, which covers up his red face and soothes the adrenaline rush.

It feels good to hear it, though he's sure that it's got to do with Luke being flung off a cliff and the exertion of the day. It still feels nice.

He has no control over the next words that rip out of his throat either, and this time he's sure his mother has nothing to do with it.

The snapping wind carries his words and eventually separates the syllables, but he still clamps a hand over his mouth and casts a frantic look around the place, afraid of who might have heard.

"I love you too."

**2.**

The second time, he is sure is a hallucination.

He's aware of pain and a soft, melodious voice, which while pleasant, is not familiar. The voice is soothing, and the burning smell—and burning _sensation_ —is ebbing away.

"Sleep." The voice—a girl, he realises— instructs. "You need it.'

He groans and turns over, the bed creaking under his weight. The girl clicks her tongue in annoyance, but he cannot care less.

"Come on." The girl says as she pulls him straight again. Her voice is authoritive and a little accented, kind of like a Huntress who he knows all too well. Or at least, did.

"Who are you?" Percy manages, disoriented. As an answer, he gets something shoved into his mouth. He still can't open his eyes, but he doesn't need to, the taste of popcorn fills his mouth. He knows better, it’s ambrosia. But the girl isn't Annabeth.

"Calypso." The girl replies, once she finishes feeding him the popcorn flavoured ambrosia. He doesn't mind, it’s popcorn after all, but she could have at least _asked_.

"It's a weird name." he observes; he never was known for his tact.

Calypso snorts. "So is yours. Perseus Jackson. Seaweed Brain."

He gapes at the general direction. At least he hopes.

"How do you—“

"Know?" Calypso asks. Except she doesn't. It's a different voice now, it’s Annabeth."Oh Seaweed Brain."

It rips him apart, the realization, when he wrenches open his eyes. He cannot rely and trust his ears anymore. But this is worse.

He's crashing downwards, and he can still feel the adrenaline rush, not because of erupting, but because the kiss he's had minutes ago keeps coming back.

It is not a hallucination.

Nobody says anything, but he can not help it. He answers anyway, "I love you too."

It makes sense with the kiss, kind of.

**3.**

The third time, they are both coming off shock. They are both weary and ridiculously happy; anything can bring relieved laughter from them.

Kronos is defeated, Luke is a hero, and they can admit they are in love.

The post-war euphoria hasn't abandoned them; the sweet high of victory in the air.

Annabeth is sitting, her posture not favourable, in the strawberry fields and he is sprawled on the green grass, next to her, a basket of strawberries between them.

A lazy Sunday afternoon, and it is blissful.

"Percy, do you think there was another way?"

Her question sets him off. He knows who they are talking about— _what_ they are talking about, but he still asks "What?"

"The war." Annabeth says simply, in a way of explanation. Sighing, she lays down slowly. "Do you think…do you think, I made the wrong choice? Did you? Was there another way?"

He thinks this over. It is the first time either of them have really thought of the war. "I don't think so. The prophecy…"

"Screw the prophecy." He is taken aback by the amount of venom that sentence possesses. "I mean, could _we_?"

"You mean if we could have prevented the battle altogether, Annabeth?"

"I—“ She doesn't deny it, but doesn't agree either. "I'm not as sure now."

This is a fair answer. There’s not much to be sure of, nowadays. So many regrets. 

“It all sucks doesn’t it?” There’s a world of grief in that sentence. She sighs. There’s more in that. “I love you, Percy.”

This is not one of those regrets. “I love you too.”

**4.**

The fourth time is unexpected, and brief and not even a moment noteworthy. Just some time they they needed comfort. He’s hoping it’s a lot more frequent, these casual displays of affection.

He is looking over the cabin construction, lying on his bed, which has been resumed again after the short hiatus due to the Giant War.

The girl of his dreams bursts through the doors of his cabin, hair pulled up in a messy bun, frantic and shaking.

"Annabeth?"

Her name has hardly out of his mouth when she flings herself onto the bed next to him and grabs in him a bone-crushing hug.

" Annab--"

" Don't." Annabeth said. "Don't talk. Please."

He nodded. She was shaking in his arms. “Is everything alright?” Annabeth slumps in his embrace. “It’s fine. Just, a stupid prank gone wrong.” She sighs at his worried expression. “Really Percy, I just—it’s fine. Really.” 

He doesn't need to hear anything else; he times their pulse, their matching breaths.

Annabeth sighs, again. "I love you, Percy."

"I love you too, Annabeth."

**5.**

The fifth is his worst.

There is a shroud, a laurel sapling and years worth of memories involved. Chiron talks solemnly, and he is aware of Thalia's blank look, Juniper's sobs, Annabeth's fake smile. 

Jason and Piper sit further away. He can tell they don't want to intrude and this is what they went through with Leo before he burst in with a Titan girlfriend and a fancy dragon.

He sits through the one hour service and Grover's death is not the only one. But it is the only one he cares about.

He makes it to his cabin, with Annabeth in tow. They don't talk and Annabeth starts tearing up unexpectedly. He holds her till her shaking subsides and she calms down.

Then the true gravity settles in, and he barely makes it to his bathroom before his breakfast makes a reappearance. He is panting on the bathroom floor when Annabeth comes in and kneels down next to him.

"Percy? Are you alright?"

He shakes his head furiously, because it is the truth. "He's gone."

"I know."

"It isn't fair."

"Percy--"

"IT ISN’T FUCKING FAIR!" He cannot stop the onslaught of tears anymore. A sob bubbles out of him and tears, tears, tears, tears, tears. "IT ISN’T FAIR!"

Annabeth hugs him tightly. "Oh gods, Percy I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

If this is how drowning feels he's never been gladder to be a son of Poseidon. It plain hurts.

"He was my best friend." He tells her through sobs, even though she knows. "Not Jason not Nico not Leo not Frank not anybody. Grover was my goddamned best fucking friend. "

"Okay. Okay, Percy."

"It isn't fair."

"No," Annabeth agreed fiercely. "It isn't. I know."

"I want him back. You got—you got Thalia back. Leo came back. He got Calypso back."

"Oh Percy…"

He shook his head. "It just isn't _fair_."

Annabeth didn't answer. Tears continued to spill out of his eyes.

Then, later Annabeth started rubbing circles on his back. "I love you."

"Grover is _dead_."

"I love you."

"He was my best friend and he is gone, Annabeth."

"I love you."

"He is dead."

She squeezed his hand. "I know. I still love you. I'm not your best friend. Grover is. And I miss him too. So much.“

He nodded, swiping at his eyes. "I know."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

**o.O.o**

**1.**

Annabeth stands alone at Montauk, facing towards the sea. Thalia just left her a minute ago; because of the Iris Message she received from a frantic Phoebe.

He knows this because he is with her. He is with her every minute of the day, through her stoic mask, through her anger, through her grief, through her denial, through her acceptance.

He yearns to say the words that she wants- no, _needs_ \- to hear. To say it will get better, to say she will be okay, that these past few years weren't for naught.

The underwater kisses, the midnight secrets, the walk through Paris nightlife.

The wars and battles. The deaths of friends, the endless prophecies.

The going ons.

And mainly, the love you's.

The love you _too's_.

Standing with her, looking at the vast blue waters his father rules, he finally understands his subconscious desire to say "I love you too." The way to show she wasn't just giving, she was getting a whole word—a whole _world_ \--to compensate for those betrayals, one sided relationships with Luke and her father and her mother and everyone in between.

That he loved her too.

His hand passes through her, she doesn't notice him.

His lips speak, she doesn't hear.

"I love you."

She doesn't answer him; it is kind of is hard too, when he is an entire world under.

**o.O.o**


End file.
